That's How Love Works, Right?
by Caitlin-Silver
Summary: He wasn't jealous. Nope, nope, nope, not at all. He was simply upset, that's it. So what if America was hanging around Romano too much for his liking? He wasn't concerned! One-sided(?) Spamano and established Romerica. Slight yandere!Spain. Rated T for language. One-shot turned Multi-chapter. Complete.
1. Spain's POV

**Edit:** Do you guys want me to maybe add an extra chapter in Romano's POV? If I do, I'm going to add an extra chapter after that that will focus on what happens during Romano's date with America and how Spain. . . reacts to it. Let me know if I should!~

**Edit 2:** So, this has over 200 views. . . Wasn't expecting that! Anyway, ignore this update, I simply edited the chapter slightly since I found a few errors that needed fixing. If I see more errors, I will continue to update and change it. If you see one, tell me! Thanks!

I have a thing for jealous!Spain and non-compliant!Romano. End of story.

That being said, this was born. . . The fuck is wrong with me. . .

_–Caitlin-Silver_

* * *

He wasn't jealous.

Nope, nope, nope, _not at all._

He was–_how do you put it?_ Mad? Concerned? Upset?–_Yes_, that was it! He was _upset_! . . . _Slightly upset._

Spain was _slightly upset_ with his former lackey Romano. Why? Well, why not?! He's been spending all his time – that could be used spending time with him instead! – with _America_ of all Nations! Why was Romano spending time with that idiot? Spain didn't know, he was asking himself the same question. Normally, he wouldn't mind Romano spending time with others. He didn't socialize much so Spain encouraged him to be around people when he could. That usually got him yelled at or hit, though.

No, what bothered him wasn't that at all. It was the fact that Romano seemed to actually be _enjoying_ his time around the younger Nation that ticked him off.

You ask Romano that and he'd deny it in a heartbeat, _of course_, because that was so him. ("Bastard! I don't enjoy spending time with that hamburger loving dumbass! _Fuck off!_") Ah, yes, he could hear those words echo in his mind.

You could tell Romano liked spending time around America for obvious reasons – obvious for _Spain_ at least – such as his constant red tinted face when he was around the other Nation, his occasional stutter, his lack of cursing, and the fact that he just always seemed to be _around _him. If Romano wasn't with Spain, which he hardly ever was anymore, he was hanging around America. It irked Spain, prodded him to act on his inner desires and just deck America and take Romano away. He couldn't do that though, _no_, Romano would kill him if he did that.

The former Empire of a Nation sighed in irritation, earning a concerned glance from France.

"Are you all right, _mon ami?_"

Spain nodded, "_Sí. _Never better."

The sarcasm was evident but France chose to ignore it and focus his attention back on England who was speaking of the World's Economy. Boring as per usual.

Normally Spain didn't mind meetings; he loved to speak with everyone and visit. Romano was the opposite and preferred to avoid World meetings whenever possible. Spain noticed their feelings towards World meetings were slowly being flopped, if they hadn't completely changed already.

Spain trained his eyes towards Romano, who was, unsurprisingly, staring at America as he argued with England. His green eyes turned acidic when they landed on the World Superpower, glaring with a burning passion of hate. Romano must have saw because he now had his hazel-green eyes on Spain and they did not speak happiness. He saw his former lackey mouth the words '_bastardo_' in his direction and he frowned at this.

Didn't his little Romano see how much he loved him? You'd have to be blind not to see it, he figured. Spain was sure that even _America_ could see this and that why he was trying to steal Romano away from him. _Yes_, that _had_ to be it! What other reason could there be for America of all Nations to hang around with South Italy? Now, don't get him wrong, he was happy someone else was taking an interest in Romano, but he didn't want them to be interested in him in _that _way!

It was hard but Spain managed to get through the rest of the meeting without jumping out of his seat and wailing that idiot American. Romano, though he hated to admit it, would never forgive him if he did something like that. His chest clenched tightly at the admittance but he couldn't deny that this was, indeed, true.

Romano, of course, had left his chair and was already speaking with America, blush adorning his _adorable_ cheeks all the while. America was smiling brightly at the smaller Italian. It was all Spain could do to not march over there, kick that _damn American_ in the balls, take Romano, and leave. He really wanted, _really really_, wanted to.

A loud laugh echoed through the less crowded meeting room. Either Romano must have said something or America was laughing at his own joke; either way, Romano's blushed was tripled and America was laughing loudly. It made Spain's blood _boil_ with rage and jealousy.

He had told himself he wasn't jealous. Or mad. Or furious, or angry, or–no, he admitted to be slightly upset. He was rapidly becoming aware that all that was a complete and utter _lie_ because he was all of those things, and quite more.

_I'll kill him. Kill him and take Romano back. Romano will forgive me, right? Right, because he loves his old boss. Boss and lackey were meant to be together, right? Right? That's how it's suppose to– _

"Oi, _bastardo_, you there? Stop spacing out!"

Spain was aware that Romano was now in his face, an irritated flush coloring his cheeks. _How cute~_

"Ah~ Romanito, you're speaking to Boss? How unusual~ You're always so busy these days. . ."

Romano was displeased by this comment, finding the hidden meaning in his former boss's words. "Idiot," he growled, "of course I'm fucking speaking to you! _Idiota!_"

His smiled strained against his cheeks. Romano noticed this and smacked him on the shoulder rather harshly. "Oww~ _Eso duele_, Romano!"

"Suck it up, you stupid _bastardo_. You've suffered through worse than this."

Spain couldn't agree more with this side comment. It was _true_. "So," Spain started, attempting to change the topic, "what were you and America talking about?"

The younger Italian's face lit up like a Christmas bulb at the mention of America. It didn't slip Spain's eyes. _Stupid America_. . .

"It's none of your _business_, damn it! We were simply having idle conversation!"

"You were blushing."

Romano sputtered, "W-wha–!"

"I _said_ you were blushing, Romano. It didn't seem like idle conversation, as you put it."

The smaller Nation stayed silent, staring in awe at Spain, as if he had been slapped in the face. He quickly recovered and a scowl adorned those _pretty little lips_ of his once more.

"You're such a _nosy bastardo! Stronzo! Vaffanculo!_"

Spain simply took the insults in stride – he was quite use to them. He found them endearing, almost.

"If you _must_ know, though, we were discussing our date next week."

Now _this_ caught Spain's attention. Date? _Date?!_ "What _date?!_" His voice cracked and came out rather harsh.

"What do you mean 'what date'? It's a date! It's what couples do, dumbass! Read a book or something, it might help you out– "

Spain's large hand captured Romano's wrist, startling the rapidly becoming disturbed Nation. "How long?"

Romano didn't answer, he was too busy struggling to get out of Spain's tight, vice grip. Spain mentally thanked God that everyone else had long since left.

The lack of an answer made him snarl. "_How long?_" he repeated, irritation levels sky-rocketing.

"How long? _How long?_ Fuck, Spain, why does it even _matter?!_"

Spain could swear he was seeing red. "Why does it matter? Why, Romanito, you should know why! You know how much Boss loves you~" His voice was sickeningly sweet. "And you know _very well_ that Boss doesn't like to share what's _his_."

Romano could only stare at Spain, disbelief flashing through those _oh so _beautiful hazel-green orbs. "Love me? I know, Spain, you tell me _every fucking day._ Trust me, I _know_, but I fail to see how this affects me and Alfred's rela–"

Oh. So Romano was on human level names with America? How worse could this day get for him? "Alfred?"

"Huh?" Romano was slightly irked at being interrupted once again by the annoying Spaniard.

"You call America _Alfred?_"

Romano could feel his eye twitch in annoyance. How stupid was this guy going to get? "_Yes, _Spain, I call my _boyfriend_ by his human name. _Problem?_"

Spain wanted to reply with a 'yes, there is actually' but all that managed to come out was a stuttered, "_B-boyfriend?!_"

Romano could feel Spain's grip go to slack, so he took the opportunity to wrench his hand away. "I'm done with this. _Arrivederci, bastardo._"

Spain barely registered the tears the started falling freely down his tanned face. To hear Romano admit _so easily_ that America was his. . . _b-boyfriend. . . _he wasn't sure, but it felt as though something broke within him.

_No_, he thought, his gaze hardening once again, _Romano is simply confused. He'll understand soon enough that he doesn't love America. . ._

Because, love works like that, right?

* * *

The fuck did I just write. Oh, fuck this, why do I even bother. . . **slaps self**

I'm going to pretend I didn't write this.

Ciao, fools!


	2. Romano's POV

So, I wrote a second part. Hooray for me.

This one is in Romano's POV. Still debating on whether or not I should do the date scene and Spain's reaction. . .

Sorry for any grammatical errors. I didn't exactly proof read much.

_–Caitlin-Silver_

* * *

That _asshole_. He's doing it _again._

Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with him? He's been doing it for the past, I don't know, _how many World meetings now?_ All Spain does when he comes to these things is glare at Alfred. _Mio Dio_, it's driving me insane. Sure, Spain has never really liked America all that much anyway, but, lately, he's been more pissy than usual around him. Actually, he avoids him wherever possible. He still manages to glare at him from a distance, though.

_It's pissing me off._

I'm not sure what's got his panties in a twist but whatever the fuck it is, he'd better get it straightened out. _Soon._ I'm not going to stand by and just watch him mentally _murder_ my _boyfriend_ and do nothing about it.

. . .

And _no_ I _so_ did not just blush at the mention of Alfred being my _boyfriend._ Manly guys don't do that shit.

Right, back to what I was saying, that goddamn _stronzo_ better stop it with the glare-fest. I swear, I _will_ kick his ass. I don't care if he _is_ Spain. The guy has it coming, anyway. Fucking _bastardo._

Spain glances my way and I scowl at him, mouthing the word '_bastardo_' in his direction. He frowns. _Heh_, I think, _serves the jerk right._

America and Eyebrow-bastard are arguing again. _Typical._ That's all our World meetings usually consist of: arguing. _Big_ shocker.

I'm about to interrupt their annoying, useless, argument when something hits me in the face. Growling, I look over to see France – that french _pervert_ – with a worried look on his face. He motions towards the piece of balled up paper he threw at me and then to Spain. I raise an eyebrow, wondering what the hell he meant.

I shrug anyway and open the paper and smooth it out.

_Romano, is something wrong with Spain? He has been acting strange as of late and it's starting to worry me. Perhaps you could speak to him after the meeting, oui?_

–_France_

Did he really have to sign the paper? Pretty sure I know who it's from. I glance up from the paper, irritated, and mouth a quick 'fine' to him. The stupid perverted bastard smiles and winks. _For fucks sake, can he try and _not_ flirt for five minutes at a time?_

Thank _Dio_ the meeting ends not too long afterwards. I want to speak with Alfred about next week and then I have to talk to that stupid Tomato bastard.

I get out of my seat quickly as the other Nations leave, speaking about whatever the fuck it is they're speaking of, and make my way over to Alfred. Thankfully England has taken off (_I bet he went off with that french pervert_) so I won't have to deal with him. . . Or, maybe, I might have been a bit _jealous _that he was always talking to America. . . _Anyway_, that isn't important.

"Ah, Lovi!"

That idiot sure can be loud. Not that I really mind, though.

"_Ciao_, Alfred."

The blonde idiot grins and glomps me. "Couldn't wait to see the Hero again, right?!"

I could practically _feel_ my face burning. I squirm around, trying to free myself. "Alfred, let me go, you _idiota_! You're crushing me!" I screech.

"Ahaha, sorry~ I just missed you is all!" He flashes me one of those bright smiles that always manages to make me melt. _Dammit!_

If I wasn't blushing before, I sure as hell am now. "Y-yeah, I m-missed you too."

I could feel him ruffle my hair, chuckling. "So, we still on for next week?"

I smack his hand away, ignoring his laughing. "Of course. I came over to ask the same thing."

"Ah, then it's a definite yes! Oh, by the way, have you noticed Spain? He's been acting really weird lately and it's kinda freakin' me out. Not sure what to do about it."

I suddenly remember what France asked me to do and mentally curse. _He didn't leave already, did he?_ I scan the meeting room and see Spain glaring at nothing in particular, off in his own world apparently. I swallow slightly in worry. "Actually," I start, "I have. France too. He asked me to speak with him about it after the meeting."

"France? Hah, well Spain is one of his best friends! You gonna do it?"

"I probably better. . ." I trail off, thinking of what could possibly be bothering the Spanish idiot. "Have you also noticed that he's usually glaring at you?"

"Hmm? Oh! Yeah, sort of. I mean, whenever I look at him he's either glaring daggers at me or staring at you. It's sort of. . . creepy." Alfred frowns slightly but then grins again. "Well, whatever it is, I'm sure you'll sort it out! He always listens to you~"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He laughs rather loudly and my blush darkens in embarrassment.

"Nothing, nothing! I just mean that, well, you were his colony back in the day, right?" I nod, hesitating slightly. "Then it makes sense that he'd be close with you, right?" I frown but nod once more. "So you're the perfect person for the job! Find out what's bothering him and then fix it! No problem-o!"

"You make it sound so easy. Spain isn't exactly. . . rainbows and sunshines when he is angry. He's a pain in the ass."

"Mmm. . ." Alfred has a thoughtful look on his face. "Well, I'm not sure what to say to that except try your best! If it doesn't work, oh well, try another time. He can't stay mad all the time. It just isn't _Spain_."

"I suppose you're right."

"Of course I am! I'm the Hero, after all! Heroes know what to do! Anyway," he glances at his watch, "I gotta run! Boss wants me back as quick as possible. I have to do stupid paperwork. . ."

I smile slightly, thinking about how much Alfred hates doing paperwork. "You better get a move on then, _Mr. Hero._"

The idiot grins again, hugs me, places a quick kiss on my forehead, and leaves with an "I'll see you next week!"

. . .

My face feels like it's on fire. _Dammit!_ _Stupid American bastardo!_

. . .

Fuck, I have to talk to Spain now. _Goddammit it all!_

Thank God it's not hard finding the idiot, otherwise I would have left instead. He's still sitting in that chair, glaring at the wall across from him. _Poor wall_, I think, _he looks ready to murder it._

I walk up next to him. Might as well get this over with. "Spain," I say, slightly irritated. He doesn't respond and this makes me raise an eyebrow.

"Hey!"

Still nothing.

"_Spain!_"

_Still_ no response. _Fucking stronzo!_

I guess getting close to his face, or at least getting in his line of sight, might help. "Oi, _bastardo_, you there? Stop spacing out!" It does the trick.

He smiles, though the malice never leaves his eyes, "Ah~ Romanito, you're speaking to Boss? How unusual~ You're always so busy these days. . ."

This jackass has a lot of nerve. I know what he's getting at. So what if I spend time with Alfred more now? He's always telling me to be around people, that bastard!

"Idiot of course I'm fucking speaking to you! _Idiota!_" I practically growl at him.

I can see that smile of his is being forced. _The hell is his problem?_ I smack him on his shoulder, making sure to put force behind it. He only whines a sad "Oww~ _Eso duele_, Romano!"

"Suck it up, you stupid _bastardo_. You've suffered through worse than this." Definitely true.

I'm about to ask the bastard what his problem has been for the past, oh, I don't know, _few months?_ when he decides to interrupt me.

"So, what were you and America talking about?"

I could feel my cheeks grow warm at the mention of Alfred. "It's none of your _business_, damn it! We were simply having idle conversation!" I couldn't exactly let it slip that we were, sort of, talking about him and his obvious _problems_.

Spain's next comment throws me off, however.

"You were blushing."

I can't help my stutter at this. "W-what–!"

I could see Spain scowl. It was kind of scaring me slightly. . .

"I _said_," he practically growls, "you were blushing, Romano. It didn't seem like idle conversation, as you put it."

. . . Did he seriously just speak to me that way? Ever cheerful _Spain_ was growling and _interrogating_ me about my conversation with _America?_ I scowl straight back at him, not giving a shit of the consequences. _Who the hell does this bastardo think he is? My keeper?_

"You're such a _nosy bastardo! Stronzo! Vaffanculo!_"

I could go on with my insults but I didn't really want to spend anymore time here than I had to.

"If you _must_ know, though, we were discussing our date next week." _It's not completely untrue. . ._

I must have said _something_ off because Spain's eyes widen and his next words comes out rather cracked and cold. "What _date?!_"

My annoyance levels were rising by the second. Did this idiot not know I was dating America, or what? "What do you mean 'what date'? It's a date! It's what couples do, dumbass! Read a book or something, it might help you out– " I don't get the chance to finish my sentence because Spain's larger hand catches my wrist in a vice-like grip. _Okay_, maybe I should start panicking.

"How long?"

I don't answer him. I'm too occupied trying to get out of his grip to give a shit about answering his fucking question.

"_How long?_"

_You know what? Fuck this, I don't care!_ "How long?" I raise my voice, "_How long? _Fuck, Spain, why does it even _matter?!_"

Next thing I know, Spain's voice turns into a sugary-sweet tone. It's fucking _creepy_. "Why does it matter?" He grins. "Why, Romanito, you should know why! You know how much Boss loves you~ And you know _very well_ that Boss doesn't like to share what's _his_."

_His?_ I stare into those green eyes of his, trying to find some sort of lie. It's scary because. . . I don't find any, not a hint of a lie. _No_, I can't deal with this shit, _not now._ "Love me?" I mock laugh, "I know, Spain, you tell me _every fucking day._" And it's true. He does. However, it was not the kind of love that I had wanted in the past. He's telling me he loves me now? _Well too. Fucking. Bad._ "Trust me, I _know_, but I fail to see how this affects me and Alfred's rela– "

I was seriously hoping to just play off his feelings. _Yes, _I had loved Spain in that way. _In the fucking past._ The damn bastard had his chance and he didn't notice any of my advances so it's his own damn fault.

Too bad Spain wasn't going to let me play it off.

"Alfred?"

. . .

"Huh?"

"You call America _Alfred?_"

Dear, fucking God. I'm about _this close_ to murdering this bastard in front of me. Come hell or high water_ I'll do it._ I could feel my eye twitch in annoyance. "_Yes,_ Spain, I call my_ boyfriend_ by his human name. _Problem?_"

"_B-boyfriend?!_"

Oh, so he finally catches on. Took him long enough.

I feel the stupid bastard's grip finally loosen and I take this chance to yank my hand free. I've had enough of this. "I'm done with this. _Arrivederci, bastardo._"

* * *

How the friggin' hell did this turn out longer than the first chapter? God. . .

Should I do the date scene? Yes? No? Maybe? Don't give a shit? Yeah, me too!

_Ciao,_ fools!


	3. It's a Lie

Hi again. I have decided to turn this into a multi-chapter fic. There is one more chapter after this and then the ending.

Sorry for any grammatical errors. I hardly ever proof read, even though I should. If you see a mistake, inform me, and I'll fix it.

_–Caitlin-Silver_

* * *

Love – it's what you feel for your other half, the one who completes you, makes you feel whole and like you actually _matter_ to the world.

For Spain, that individual was Romano.

_Ah,_ Spain thinks, _Romano._ How he loves him. How he loves that former lackey of his, his use-to-be cute, _adorable,_ little henchmen. How he wished to hold him in his arms and never let him go, _ever._

Unfortunately, this wish cannot become reality. Spain frowns at this. Romano is with America. _Yes, America,_ that thieving bastard.

Several days had passed since the last World meeting and Romano had walked out on him. _Had left him._ Spain bit his lip, trying to keep calm.

It wasn't helping much.

_What was he going to do?_ If he did anything to America then Romano surely would never speak to him, ever again, and that thought terrified Spain. He didn't want his little Roma to be mad at him! But how could he get Romano to leave America for him? After all, Romano made it _clearly, painfully, _obvious that he didn't like Spain in that way. Unless. . .

No. Absolutely not. Romano wouldn't pretend to love America just to make Spain _jealous_ would he? _Well,_ he scratches the back of his head in thought, _he did act out a lot as a child to get my attention. Especially if I ever mentioned Italy._

The realization that Romano could be – _was,_ his brain tells him– pretending to love America just to get him jealous made him smile in hope. _Yes! It all makes sense now! Romano is merely trying to show me that he loves me by trying to make me jealous!_

But, he stops, the date. . . When was that date they were going on? And _where?_ It had to be somewhere in South Italy, granted, because Romano would never eat at a restaurant in America. He may be pretending to love America but he sure as hell wouldn't eat the food there. _Maybe Italy knows where. . ._

. . .

So, Spain decides to try and call Italy up and ask him where the supposed 'date' would be. It takes a couple rings for the cheerful man to answers but he finally does.

"_Ve~ Ciao, this is Feliciano~ Who is it?_"

Spain smiles at the happy voice. "Italy! ¡Hola! it's Spain!"

"_Oh! Big brother Spain! It's so nice to speak to you! How are you?_"

"I'm quite well, _gracias,_ but I need to speak with you about Romano."

"_Hmm? Fratello? What do you need to speak with me about Fratello, for? Ve~ Did something happen?!_"

"Oh, no, nothing happened! I was just curious about where his date with America is being held and when."

"_. . . Ve~ Big brother Spain, why do you want to know about that?_"

Spain frowns at the hesitancy in Italy's voice but continues on anyway, "I just need to speak with him about something rather important before then. Preferably right before his date."

"_Well, I'm not sure if I should tell you or not. Fratello said that I shouldn't even be speaking with you. . . Are you sure nothing happened?_"

Hearing this, Spain's chest tightens. Romano forbade Italy to speak with him? What for? He inhales slowly and then breathes out, trying to calm himself. He couldn't risk exploding or snapping at Italy, especially when he's done nothing wrong.

"Look," he starts rather shaky, "I believe Romano is making a mistake by being with America–"

Italy manages to cut him off. "_Ve~ Mistake? Why would you say something like that? I've never seen Fratello as happy as he is now!_"

"Italy, _please,_ this is so very important to me. I must know where they are having their date. _Please._"

"_. . . Okay._"

. . .

The date is tomorrow, as he finds out, and at Romano's favorite restaurant. Apparently, America and Romano are going to grab breakfast there and then go on a tour of South Italy, courtesy of Romano. America had been dying to be shown around, as Italy told him.

All Spain has to do is catch Romano before he meets up with America at the restaurant, confess that he knows what Romano is doing, Romano would admit it, they would leave America at the restaurant, and then Spain would take Romano back to his home, where they could live together in peace.

Yes, it was perfect and simple. There was no way it wouldn't work because Romano _loved him._ Not _America_ but _him._ Spain smiles to himself at the thought of Romano loving him. Finally, he would be able to be with the one he loved. And no one, _especially America,_ was going to ruin it for him. _Romano belonged to Spain and Spain belonged to Romano._

Unfortunately for Spain, his plan wouldn't go at all like he had expected it to. First off, Romano had found out that Spain called his brother and asked where the date was and Second, Romano had changed up his and America's date to a different location. Spain didn't know where he changed it to either.

By the end of the day, Spain was seething in his house – he had gotten mad earlier and went on a bit of a destruction rampage – locked up in his room, glaring at anything and everything. He should probably be cleaning up all the broken items in his house but he simply didn't feel like doing that. He was too _pissed off._

_Why, _he asks himself, _did Romano do that?_

Romano loves him! What would have possessed him to change the date's location?! Better yet, how did Romano even find out that Spain had called Italy in the first place? Did Italy tell? Spain had specifically asked him _not _to do that for fear that something like _this_ would happen.

His cellphone going off breaks him out of his fuming thoughts, irritating him further. He didn't feel like talking to anyone at the moment but it might be important. Pulling the vibrating thing out of his pocket, he flips it open and presses the 'talk' button.

"_Hey! Toni! Guess who?!_"

He should have known.

"Gil, I'm really not in the mood right now."

"_Aww, what's the matter? Are you upset that you'll never be as awesome as me? Hah! Anyway–_"

Spain's eye twitches in annoyance and he tries to hold back from snapping at his friend. "_Look_, I'm really not in the best of moods right now. Call back some other time."

"_All right, all right, I can take a hint! Too bad, though, you're missing out on some pretty interesting news~_"

News?

"What news?" he growls out. It had better be good.

"_No, no no no, it's okay Toni! I understand that you're too busy right now–_"

"_Tell me!_"

He hears Gilbert laugh on the other end. "_Okay fine! So, West heard some pretty interesting news from Italy! Apparently someone's brother got proposed to yesterday~ You'll never guess who!_"

. . . Did he just say what he thinks he just said? _No,_ he thinks. He heard _wrong._ If it was who he was thinking of, then it had to be a lie, because there was no way! No way in _hell would Romano– _

"_Haha, someone is speechless! Anyway, Italy told West, who told me, that America proposed to Romano yesterday! Kesesesesese~ I never thought America would actually go for it! He told me about it a few weeks ago and shit, but I didn't think he was serious– _"

"_You knew about it,_ Gilbert? And you didn't stop it?!" Spain's tone comes out rather harshly but he can't help it. _Romano better not have said yes. . ._

"_Um. . . Toni, am I missing something here? Why would I try and stop it? Anyway, the wedding and stuff is in two months. Romano and Italy have already started planning and everything. They were suppose to come over here, since West volunteered to help and all, but Romano refused, so we have to go over to their place. I was calling to ask if you wanted to come over and help out too!_"

"_No,_" Spain grounds out through clenched teeth, "I _don't_ want to help out. I don't even approve of this! Romano is suppose to love _me_ not _America!_"

"_Woah, what? Romano love you? Spain, did you hit your head on something? Pretty sure Romano loves America. Besides, I mean, he use to like you that way, but whenever he made a pass at you, you never noticed. So he gave up trying centuries ago–_"

"_What?!_"

"_Look, Toni, you're as dense as a fucking tree, but even the awesome me could tell he was in love with you back then. I even tried helping him out because I thought it could work but, well, you never picked up on it._"

". . ."

Gilbert sighs over the phone. "_I gotta go Toni. If you really feel like you love Romano, maybe you should try talking it out with him. I don't think it will work, because he seriously seems in love with America, but go ahead and try. You never know._"

The line 'clicks' on the other end, signaling that his friend has hung up. Spain doesn't notice. He's too busy trying to hold back his screams of anger and hurt.

_How could Romano do this to him?_ Was this his way of getting back at him for not picking up his passes in the past? If so, then dear God, give him a break and let Romano see that he did love him.

If Romano really did love America then the only other option left would be for him to make Romano see that he still loved _him_ and not America; make him see that the 'love' he held for America was only a false cover up to make him feel like he had gotten over Spain.

He would get him to see it. He wouldn't give up, even if it took the rest of his existence to make him see.

* * *

Fuck. Am I mean to Spain in this, or what? Sorry, I am simply venting my frustrations with him in this. I read so many fanfics with Spain hurting Romano instead, so I figured it would be nice if it was the other way around.

You guys want this to end in Spamano, or Romerica? I love both, so I really don't give a shit what you all choose. I could have alternate endings for both, I suppose.

_Ciao,_ fools!


	4. Problematic Dealings

**Edit:** Fixed a few errors and added a few details, here and there, so don't mind this update! 'Course, feel free to re-read it again if you want, haha!

Okay one more chapter after this. One last chance everyone; Spamano or Romerica? I myself am leaning towards the Romerica.

Once again, I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors. I don't have enough time to look them over since my family is going out to eat right now. I'm barely having enough time to put this up! I had to cut the chapter shorter than I wanted it to be. I may add more after I come back home so don't be too surprised if that happens.

_–Caitlin-Silver_

* * *

Italy frowned as he hung up. He was worried that maybe it had been a mistake to tell Spain the details of his big brother's date. After all, Romano had specifically told him not to be talking to Spain. He wasn't exactly sure _why_ he shouldn't but did what he was told. Well, maybe not now.

"Big brother is going to be mad at me for this. . ."

He sighed, knowing he promised Spain he wouldn't tell Romano that he had spoken to him about his date, but he couldn't keep it from Romano. Italy knew there was something wrong with Spain as well – he wasn't as dense as he put on. Even Germany had noticed his attitude change during the World meetings. He was worried about him greatly but wasn't sure how to go about helping him.

Maybe that was why Romano had forbade him to speak to Spain. Maybe he wanted to wait until he was better! Yes, that must be it! Big brother was just worried about Spain so he didn't want him to talk to him until he had everything sorted out. Italy smiled to himself at this thought.

"Ve~ Big brother is so smart!" he said, clapping his hands together.

. . .

Italy did end up telling Romano about his speaking to Spain and he had _not_ been happy about it.

"Veneziano! What did I _specifically_ tell you _not_ to fucking do?!"

He twiddled his fingers together and looked down, feeling ashamed. "Ve~. . . You told me not to speak to big brother Spain. . ."

Romano clicked his tongue, glaring at his younger brother. "And _what_ did you do?"

". . . I spoke to him."

"About _what?_"

". . . Your and America's date."

His big brother's eyes went wide at this. "You talked to him about _what?!_ Veneziano! What the hell!"

Italy picked his head up, feeling slightly frantic. "Ve~ I'm sorry! It's just–well. . . Big brother Spain wants to talk to you about something important so he wanted me to tell him where you and America were meeting for your date! That's all!"

Romano sighed, exasperated. "God_dammit_ Veneziano. He wasn't supposed to know about any of that."

"But, how did he know of the date then?"

"Idiot," he snapped at his brother. "I meant he wasn't supposed to know of the details. That psycho has been acting weird as shit lately and I don't want him around me–_us._" Romano gestured to himself and then to his brother.

Italy tilted his head to the side. "What do you mean? He's been acting strange lately, sure, but he just needs to get his problems sorted out! That's all. Ve~ I'm sure nothing is too terribly wrong with him."

Romano rubbed his temple with his forefingers, trying to calm himself down. He had told himself he would try to be more nice around people at the beginning of the year – it was sort of his New Years resolution – but it was so _fucking difficult._ "Okay," he began, talking slowly, "I'm just going to change the location of the date and avoid Spain. And you," he pointed to his brother, "are _not_ going to say shit about it to Spain. _Understand?_"

Italy nodded his head, feeling slightly scared. The last thing he wanted was his brother being more mad at him than he already was.

So, as promised, Italy didn't say anything and his brother left the next day, going towards the new destination of his and America's date. Thankfully, he was able to get a hold of his boyfriend before he met up with him and tell him they had to change locations. America had asked why, since the place they had originally planned for was Romano's favorite restaurant, but he had dropped it when he had explained the situation involved Spain.

Italy waved a farewell and sent his brother off with a smile, wishing him a good day. "Ve~ Make sure to show America all the great spots here! You'll have a lot of fun!"

"Of course," Romano smirked, feeling proud of his country. "It's Italy. What could possibly be better?"

Italy was glad that America was around to make his big brother happy. Romano had spent most of his life feeling bitter and angry at everyone, so it was nice that America made him feel loved and wanted. He frowned, thinking of Spain once more and wondered why Romano was so dead set against talking to him. Did something bad happen between them? Nothing too major, he hoped. Big brother Spain had been the one to raise his brother, after all.

_Maybe,_ he thought, _big brother Spain found out that Romano use to like him. Ve~ That would be embarrassing!_

That could possibly be the reason that Romano wanted to avoid Spain! Oh, and maybe that's why Spain was so desperate to talk to Romano and why he said it was a mistake for Romano to be with America–_wait._ If big brother Spain thought it was a mistake, then did that mean he loved his big brother in that way?

"Hmm. . . Ve~ I hope not because then he might try to break America and Romano up! That would be sad since he doesn't feel that way about big brother Spain anymore. . ."

Italy pushed those worrisome thoughts to the back of his mind as he skipped towards the kitchen to make himself lunch. He was hungry for pasta!

The day passed by quickly for Veneziano and by five o' clock, his brother had returned home.

"Ve~ Big brother! You're back! How was your time with–" he stopped when Romano held up his hand, showing off the band placed around his ring finger. "Is that. . . what I think it is?"

His slightly teary-eyed big brother nodded, smiling. Not a moment later, they were on the floor, Italy hugging his brother, practically crushing all of the air out of him. "Ve~ This is wonderful, Romano! Oh, we have to start planning and everything! Wait, where is America?"

Romano grunted, "Veneziano, get off! You're crushing me!"

"Ve~ Sorry! I was just excited!" Italy said, complying and standing up with Romano following suit.

"Anyway," he began, brushing off any dirt that may have gotten on his shirt, "to answer your question, Alfred had to go back to America to finish up some more paper work. He said if he gets it all done now, he can come over here and stay for a while."

"Oh, that sounds great! Ve~ I'm so happy for you big brother!" Italy clapped his hands together and beamed at his brother, bouncing with excitement. "Ve~ I can't wait to tell Germany," Romano scowled, "and Japan and big brother France! Ooh, and big brother Spain–"

Romano cut him off, "No, I don't want you telling him."

". . . But, big brother, he deserves to know! After all, he raised you! He's kind of like your big brother! He'd be excited–"

"Please," he cut him off once more, "I really don't want him to know. At least, not right now."

The pleading tone in his voice made Italy frown, but he nodded anyway. "Okay, I understand. Now," he smiled once more, "let's start planning everything!"

. . .

It wasn't long before both brother's had a date set for the wedding – they had called America earlier (Italy being the one to explain the details) and told him it was planned for two months later. America was quite excited, talking so fast even Italy couldn't understand him over the phone. They did manage to get that he would be able to come over in a week and stay with them until a week after the wedding, then he'd have to return home to do more work. Apparently he was lucky enough to get as much time off as he was getting but Romano understood. Being a country isn't exactly a walk in the park.

"Ve~ Big brother?" Italy called from the living room. Romano was in the kitchen cooking their lunch.

"What?"

His younger brother's head popped in from the side of the doorway. "I called Germany earlier and told him about everything! He volunteered to help out with the planning!"

Romano hated Germany, of course, but he had long since gave up trying to get his brother to stop seeing him. It was a lost battle before it even started. So, instead, he simply _tolerated_ the man. That in itself was difficult as hell to do. "Whatever, Vene, but if you think we're going over _there_ then you'd better tell him to come over here because I _refuse_ to go to Germany."

"Ve~ Okay! I'll call him up and tell him to come over here instead!"

Italy bounded back to the living room to call Germany again and tell him the plans. Dialing the number, he guided the phone to his left ear and waited. It took a couple of rings but the Nation finally answered. "_Hello?_"

"Ve~ Germany! I called again to tell you that Romano doesn't want to go to your house so you have to come over here! Is that okay with you? You can bring Prussia if you want!"

"_I thought this might happen so I took the liberty of going ahead and packing my bags. I shall ask if bruder wants to come along._"

"Okay! Ve~ See you later Germany!"

"_Ja, goodbye Italy._"

"Ciao!"

Just as Italy hung up, Romano walked into the living room. "Hi, _fratello!_ I just got off the phone with Germany!"

"I see that. Pasta is done, by the way."

"Ve~ Okay! He is bringing Prussia with him. Ve~ It's been a while since I've seen him. I wonder how he is!"

Romano simply 'hmm'd and walked back towards the kitchen, not really hearing what he had said. Italy followed close behind. When the two sat down at the table, Romano finally processed what had been said to him. "_Wait,_ did you say he's bringing _Prussia_ with him?"

"Yup!" Italy said, taking a huge bite of his food. "That's what I said~"

". . . Son of a _bitch._"

. . .

Needless to say, Prussia and Romano fought. It was mostly just Romano being difficult because he absolutely _loathed_ the Prussian and Prussia couldn't help but tease Romano every chance he got. Italy and Germany did a lot of the planning and such together – Romano tried doing as much as he could (it was _his_ wedding) but Prussia got on his nerves too much – so there wasn't much left to do but wait for the set date.

"So, you got everything planned then?" Prussia said, sitting down next to his brother.

Germany nodded, "_Ja,_ everything has been planned out."

The albino man nodded, "That's good! Romano must be pretty excited, eh? I tried inviting Toni over to help out but, well, he's really upset about all of this. . ."

"Upset? Why? I would have guessed that he would be happy for Romano."

Prussia scratched the back of his neck, wishing he hadn't brought Spain up. His conversation with his friend hadn't exactly gone like he had expected and he was wondering if he should tell Germany about it or not. He felt like he needed to tell at least _one_ person about it, though. "Well," he started, "you know how Romano use to like Spain in _that_ way?"

Germany nodded slowly, not quite sure where this was headed.

"Right, so Toni kinda. . . told me he. . ."

"He what?"

Prussia regretted bringing this up because Germany might tell Italy and Italy would tell Romano. Italy had a big mouth on him, he hated to admit. "Err. . . Toni told me that he's. . . he loves. . ."

Germany sighed, catching on to where this was going. "I understand. You realize you can't tell Romano about this, right? Or Italy?"

"I know," he sighed as well. "I just felt like telling someone. Toni's my friend but I don't want him to ruin Romano's wedding or anything like that. America, though the guy's nice as hell, would probably declare war on him. That isn't something he needs right now."

"America would declare war on Spain for ruining his wedding?"

"Uh, yeah. Have you not _seen_ how much America loves that Italian fireball?"

Germany went silent before answering, ". . . _Ja,_ I understand. I won't say anything."

Prussia released a heavy breath, feeling slightly better at having that off his chest. Germany looked at his brother, thinking over the news in his head. A question in particular popped up. "How are you going to keep Spain from doing anything about this? Obviously he knows about the wedding now."

The question made Prussia purse his lips. ". . . _Shit,_ I don't know."

An image of an angry Romano popped into their minds, making them pale. Sure, the guy was a bit (a lot) of a coward, but if he was really _pissed off_, he was quite scary.

_What the hell were they going to do?_

* * *

One more chapter!

_Ciao,_ fools!


	5. Bitter Sweet

_Happy last chapter, people!_

So, I'm going to say this now so some of you don't get pissy with me later for it – _there is no wedding scene in this chapter or story._ I never intended for there to be. In fact, this was originally just supposed to be a one-shot and only that, but it turned into this.

After I made this story into a multi-chapter fic, I decided I wanted it to revolve around the feelings of Spain and Romano. I didn't intend for it to center on Romano and _America_ but this story does end with Romerica, just not directly. _So don't get pissy with me about it, okay?_ I never actually was going to end it in Spamano because that just wouldn't make sense. I simply wanted to see how many people would actually ask for a Spamano ending. Ahaha, so sorry~

Now I have good news and bad news (might be bad depending on your preferred pairing).

Good news: I am planning on a sequel. _Maybe._

Bad news: It centers on life with Romano and America. So, Romerica. Though there will be some _Spamano_ in it for reasons you will find out later if you read the chapter carefully enough.

Now that I have said all I need to, read on and enjoy this slightly short last chapter. I apologize for any grammatical errors in advance. Point them out to me and I'll fix them!

_–Caitlin-Silver_

* * *

Spain fumbled with the collar of his shirt, feeling slightly nervous as he stood outside of Romano and Italy's house. It had been three days since Prussia had called him and told him the news that his former lackey was getting married. He wasn't sure what exactly to say to Romano to get him to change his mind–he had already professed his love to him so he wasn't sure what else there was to say. Spain had gone through several possible things to say while traveling to Italy but, so far, nothing had been good enough.

The brunette man sighed, running a hand through his hair roughly. It looked like he would just have to wing it after all. Knocking on the door, he tried calming his nerves once more and failing _miserably._

_It's just Romano,_ he told himself, _nothing to be too worried about._

Seconds ticked by and before he knew it, a full minute passed. He knocked once more and waited. Spain waited more and more and as the seconds kept ticking by, he became discouraged. _Are they not home?_

A loud bang came from inside, a yell following close behind. It sounded like Romano had just awoken from a siesta. _Damn,_ he cursed, _bad timing._

The door swung open, revealing a scowling, bed-headed Romano. The angry look turned to shock once his eyes landed on Spain. "S-spain, what the _fuck_ are you _doing_ here?"

"Romano," he began, taking a step forward which in turn made Romano take a step back, "I wanted to–_no,_ I need to talk with you. _Please?_"

It was silent until the smaller man sighed, moving sideways to invite Spain inside. "Fine, get in."

"_Gracias,_ Roma," he thanked, stepping inside. Romano shut the door behind him and began towards the living room, Spain close behind him.

"Okay," the Italian started, sitting down. "Now what, pray tell, do you 'need'," his fingers made air quotes, "to speak with me about? It better be fucking good, too."

Spain swallowed hard. "It's. . . about your wedding."

Romano stiffened. ". . . _How do you know about that?_" he demanded, eyes narrowing into slits.

"Um, Prussia–"

"Stop there, I don't need to know more. I should have _known_ he would tell you." Romano grumbled to himself, pouting and crossing his arms.

_So cute~_

Spain pushed aside the thought. "Well, I don't think Gil knew at the time that I _wasn't_ – I'm going to assume I wasn't supposed to know – to be told about the wedding. So, it's not exactly his fault. . ." he trailed off, not knowing what else to say.

"You _weren't_ supposed to know but it's kind of late for that now, so it doesn't really matter," Romano said, looking at anything other than Spain.

It hurt him to hear this and he frowned. _Is he mad at me because of what happened at that World meeting?_ He probably was, he told himself. "Look, Romano, I know you're upset with me about the World meeting," he heard Romano scoff at this, "but _please_ listen to me. I really meant what I said that day–when I said that I love you."

Hazel-green eyes met his green ones and his breath stopped short. Spain could see Romano's eye twitch slightly, most likely in irritation.

"_Spain,_" Romano growled out, "I don't love you that way. I _use _to but that was a long ass time ago!"

Spain opened his mouth to protest at this but Romano continued on, "I'm sorry, okay? I don't know what else to say to you but for God's sake, _please,_ don't put me on the spot like this! I really _don't_ want to hurt your feelings and shit but _goddammit_ you're making this _so difficult._"

It went silent. All they could hear was the sound of each other's breathing. The one being to break the silence was Spain. "Do you. . ." he began, "really love America then?"

"Yes," Romano nodded.

". . . How much?"

"I don't think I can find the exact words to say how much I love him–_no,_ I don't just love him, I adore everything about that idiot. He's loud, obnoxious, a bit self-centered, has poor taste in food, but. . . no one has ever made me feel as loved and appreciated as much as he has. He pays attention to me, always notices when I am feeling upset, gives me random little gifts for no reason, puts me before anything and everything – excluding his work as a country – and just makes me feel. . . whole." By the end of the small speech, Spain can see the scarlet blush on Romano's face.

He sighs sadly.

". . . There's no chance for me, is there? Even if I beg, you wouldn't consider it?"

Romano shakes his head in an apologetic manner. "I'm sorry but. . . you understand, right?"

Spain stands up, feeling dejected. "I understand but that doesn't mean I want to, nor do I approve of any of this. . . but there isn't anything I can do. I'll give up – _for now_ – if that's what makes you happy."

Romano raises his brow in confusion. "_For now?_ What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Ahaha~ Exactly what it means, Roma~" Spain's voice returns to it's cheerful vibe, making him feel more relaxed. "Am I invited to the wedding, at least?"

The Italian rolls his eyes – he doesn't take into consideration that Spain was serious when he said 'for now' –, smacking the Spaniard on the arm ("Oww~ Roma, that hurts!") and smiling slightly. "Yeah, yeah, just don't crash my wedding or yell 'I object!' or any shit like that. I _will_ kick your _ass._"

Spain smiled, sweat dropping. He knew Romano was being serious. He simply laughed nervously and pulled his former lackey into a hug. "I promise I won't do anything like that! You have my word~"

"You had better not."

. . .

Later on, Spain asked to stay until the wedding, promising he wouldn't try anything at all and helping out with whatever he could help with. Romano, though reluctant to agree at first, complied with his request. Prussia and Germany were still staying with them – they would be staying until the wedding (the thought made Romano cringe) – but they had enough bed rooms to accommodate the extra guest. They later realize, though, that Spain doesn't have any extra clothing. He hadn't exactly been prepared to stay. . .

"It's all right, you have some clothes that you left over here from your last visit. They will make do until we can get you some new ones." Romano told him.

Italy, Germany, and Prussia returned a few hours later – they had went clothes shopping for the wedding (Romano had _long_ since picked his clothing) – and were shocked to see Spain sitting in the living room, whistling away and watching the television.

"Toni?" Prussia asked in disbelief. _What the hell is he doing here?_

Spain looked up, ceasing his whistling. "Oh, _hola,_ everyone."

"Um," Italy began, feeling slightly nervous about Spain being in the house. "D-does _fratello_ know you're here, big brother Spain?"

The Spaniard nodded, smiling. "Yup! I came over earlier and talked things over with Roma~ Don't worry, he's okay with me being here. In fact, I'll be staying until the wedding, ahaha~"

Germany and Prussia both looked confused and slightly shocked; Italy simply smiled happily. "Ve~ That's great news! It's great to have you over, big brother Spain~"

Spain nodded back, smile still bright and cheerful. He was about to comment until Romano entered the living room, finally making himself present. "Oi, what are you idiots doing? Get in the kitchen and eat, dammit! I didn't just make your asses food to have it go to _waste._"

"Ve~ Okay, _fratello!_" Italy said cheerfully, dragging Germany along with him. Prussia followed behind them along with Spain and Romano.

"Roma," Spain whispered, quietly enough not to be heard by Prussia.

"What?"

"Thank you for forgiving me. _And_ for letting me stay here with you."

". . . Don't mention it, you _bastardo._"

* * *

Hooray! They end on good terms~ Sort of, anyway.

Did you guys catch that, by the way? Spain said he was giving up _for now_. . . Yes, this means he hasn't given up his feelings for Romano. Why? The answer to this is simple; Spamano is still my OTP (forever and always) and I couldn't stand the thought of him just giving up. So I ended it this way. It's a win-win for me!

Like I said in the A/N up top – there _might be a sequel._ It all depends on if you guys want it or not. It won't be a story in itself but simply snippets of their life after the wedding. . . with Spain trying to ruin their love life. Ahaha~ It will be more comedy than anything, though.

Well, this has been fun. . .

_Ciao,_ fools!


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